


so just bite me, baby

by pbandwhey



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampires, Biting, M/M, Mentions of Blood, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 10:45:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12982389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pbandwhey/pseuds/pbandwhey
Summary: Geno doesn’t know why he still goes to nightclubs at age thirty-one. It’s like his hangovers get exponentially worse every year. He drags himself out of bed and into his bathroom to brush his teeth, staring into the mirror as he does.It takes him a minute too long to notice that he can no longer see his reflection.





	so just bite me, baby

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the classic mid-late 2000s song, "Oh Oh Oh Sexy Vampire," because the temptation was just too much to resist.
> 
> Before you ask: yes, I'm embarrassed about writing this.

Geno doesn’t know why he still goes to nightclubs at age thirty-one. It’s like his hangovers get exponentially worse every year. He drags himself out of bed and into his bathroom to brush his teeth, staring into the mirror as he does.

It takes him a minute too long to notice that he can no longer see his reflection.

***

Geno hears the rattling of keys in the lock; Sid usually knocks, despite having both Geno’s spare key and his blessing to enter his house whenever he wants, but it would appear that Sid’s overbearing Canadian manners have disappeared under the circumstances.

He winces a little against the bright sunlight that floods into the hallway when Sid opens the door – the Hollywood-bred notion that sunlight is fatal to individuals suffering from vampirism may be false, but light sensitivity _is_ generally increased and besides, Geno’s still hungover.

“Shit, sorry,” Sid says, closing the door quickly behind him. He steps forward as if he’s going to comfort Geno, but visibly stops himself. It confuses Geno for a second; after all, Sid may be prickly about personal space but he’s never had a problem with touching Geno.

Then he sees the cross necklace.

Sid will sometimes wear it outside of games, that isn’t what’s out of the ordinary. No, what’s new is how Sid’s wearing it over his shirt, rather than tucked under the collar. And there can only be one reason for that, really.

“Sid,” Geno says, disappointed. “Really?”

“What?” Sid looks confused, but then glances down at his crucifix. “Oh, fuck, sorry,” he says, tucking it under his shirt. He makes no move to take it off or move any closer to Geno, however, and the flush on his face gives his obvious discomfort and embarrassment away.

God, the flushing. Geno swears he can _smell_ a difference when Sid’s face goes red. He does his best to ignore it; the last thing he needs is for the feelings he’s been harboring for years to bubble to the surface, and while he’s a _vampire,_ no less.

He won’t lie and say he’s honestly offended. If the tables were turned, Geno thinks he’d be just as uncomfortable. But Geno’s never been on the opposite side of Sid’s personal space bubble, and it hurts more than it should to be in that position now. When he beckons Sid into his living room, he doesn’t place his hand on the small of his back like usual, and Sid keeps a careful amount of space between them as he passes, even though he has to press his shoulder against the wall in the narrow hallway to do so.

Geno sighs. And he’d figured a mild garlic allergy would be the worst part of this.

Sid sits in the armchair, leaning forward with his elbows planted on his knees when Geno settles on the couch.

“Where’d you get the virus from?”

There’s no use lying to Sid about it, so Geno just flat out tells him about the guy in the club, how he’d felt so good just from making out pressed against a wall with a muscle-thick thigh shoved between his legs that he hadn’t noticed the fangs sinking into the skin of his neck until the guy was pulling away; how Geno hadn’t been worried because the NHL requires that every player receives the vampirism vaccine.

He very deliberately leaves out why he wasn’t suspicious of how the man’s eyes had been bizarrely laser-focused as he’d dragged Geno with him into the dingy bar bathroom, since it reminded him of – anyways.

Sid nods along, letting Geno finish without interrupting. “Did you get his name, number, anything? It’s easier to cure early stage vampirism if you can get in contact of the vampire who infected you.”

Geno can’t help but flinch a little at the term _infect,_ but he tries not to show it. “No. Just kissing, didn’t want to ask number.” He rubs at a thinning patch in the fabric of his sweatpants. “Is not too big of a deal, cure still exist.”

“I know, it’s just – I’ve heard the cure without it takes longer.”

Geno can’t hold back a scowl. “Thanks, Sid. Make me feel so much better,” he drawls, injecting as much sarcasm into it as he can. “Think I’m stupid? I wish that I’m have contact info, make this easier.”

Sid sighs. “I’m sorry. I just want to help you, G.” He reaches out, tentatively placing a hand on Geno’s knee. His pinky overlaps Geno’s own, and Geno stares down at it. It’s honestly ridiculous how that gesture helps ease the ache in Geno’s chest, and Geno smiles gratefully at Sid. Sid smiles back, reassuring, even if he does seem a little rigid.

One step at a time, Geno figures.

***

Sid comes with him to talk to Dr. Vyas about starting Geno’s treatment. Dr. Vyas doesn’t say anything about it, but he’s clearly a little curious.

“I want you to stay on injury reserve until all signs of the virus are gone. The good news is that you’re starting treatment right after infection.”

Geno groans. He knows it’s immature, but no one likes injury reserve, least of all him. He sees Sid’s fingers tighten around where he’s holding on to some of the pamphlets about managing stage-one vampirism. Dr. Vyas clucks at him, the _try to be more careful_ going unsaid but still clearly implied.

He taps his clipboard. “I’ll write up a prescription for Vamproxophin and have someone deliver it to your house. We’ll try and make this as painless and discrete as possible for you.” He pauses. “And Jen. I’d rather not be on her bad side and I’m sure you feel the same.”

Geno snorts. “Understood.”

He leaves with a reminder that he needs to be at home at seven o’clock to get the delivery – as if he’d be anywhere else. Sid follows him home without asking. Geno doesn’t know why until Sid barges into his kitchen and starts rummaging in his fridge.

Geno frowns as Sid starts pulling out the greens he’s left untouched for, admittedly, a little too long. They still look fine, albeit somewhat wilted. “What are you doing?”

“You should have some, y’know, _you_ -friendly food prepared in advance. No garlic, high iron, all of that.”

Geno snorts. “What, can’t trust me to cook?”

Sid points at him accusingly with the bundle of swiss chard. “I don’t trust you not to keel over from, like, an extreme vitamin deficiency. Anyways, don’t act like you aren’t happy that someone’s cooking for you.”

Geno shoots him a shit-eating grin. “Maybe a little.”

Sid rolls his eyes and starts chopping.

***

Geno’s at least a good enough host to clear the dishes from the table once they’re both done eating. “So good, Sid, thanks.” He’s already eagerly anticipating the amount of leftovers he’ll have stored away; Sid made a lot.

“Don’t expect it to become a habit,” Sid laughs. “But I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Geno grins at him. “Is my plan all along. Don’t have vampire disease after all, just wanted to make you cook.”

Sid rolls his eyes. “Oh, I’m sure. You’re very cunning.”

“Mastermind, yes. Keep it secret the whole time. Now you know, don’t tell anyone.”

“Pinky promise,” Sid says in what Geno recognizes as his most sarcastic monotone. Geno laughs again, reaching over to hook his little finger with Sid’s with the hand not holding the plates.

Sid stiffens a little, and Geno hastily pulls his hand back. “Sorry. Forgot you’re not so comfortable with me right now.”

“No, no, it’s my fault, Geno, I’m being stupid.” He reaches out to hook his pinky with Geno’s. “I trust you. Pinky promise.” He grins, a little sheepish. “Didn’t even wear my cross tonight.”

If Geno’s hands weren’t both occupied, he’d solemnly place one over his heart. Instead, he just tugs a little at Sid’s hand and beams.

***

Kris and Olli come over the next day, and Geno has to stand and listen to a full ten minutes of teasing about his condition before he cracks open beers for the two of them in his kitchen.

Kris peers around his shoulder into his fridge and whistles. “That’s some major Tupperware action.”

Geno pushes him away. “Nosy. It’s Sid cooking, he’s make what he calls _me-friendly food._ ”

“Maybe I should get bitten by a vampire, if it means that Sid’ll cook for me,” deadpans Olli.

“Won’t work. He’s only make food for his favorite, and I’m only favorite. Sorry.”

“Fuck you, Geno,” Olli says easily, leaning back on the counter as he takes a swig. Geno feels a strange swell of pride when he hears the familiar refrain. Olli’s truly come so far.

“How’d you manage to get bitten, anyways?” asks Kris.

Geno shrugs. “Club.” He doesn’t elaborate any further, doesn’t need to, doesn’t want to. Kris, thankfully, accepts the curt answer with one raised eyebrow but no further comments. “Feel like shit next morning, can’t see reflection.”

Kris raises his bottle. “Good job.” He takes a drink, ignoring it when Geno flips him off. “So what, Sid’s your chef now?”

Geno shakes his head. “He’s just worry because I’m not play until better. Won’t score much until I’m back, I know. Can’t play without me.”

Kris smirks. “I mean, if you look at the stats, he usually plays better without you. He’s probably poisoning you to keep you away longer.”

“Should poison you. Can’t play defense, you always think you a forward.”

Olli snorts, and Kris shoots him a glare. “I will have you know I just came back from a very serious neck injury, and you should be more sensitive.”

“So delicate.”

“Fuck you,” Kris repeats.

The afternoon goes on like that, and when Kris and Olli leave, Kris pauses in the doorway and turns to face Geno. “Seriously, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. Sid isn’t the only one here for you.”

Geno claps him on the shoulder. “I know. Thanks, Tanger.”

Kris gives him a mock-salute and leaves, following Olli out to his car parked in Geno’s driveway. It’s late enough that it’s pretty dim outside, and Geno feels comfortable standing in the open doorway to watch them drive away.

He eats some of Sid’s reheated leftovers and heads up to his bedroom, figuring he may as well turn in early. Before he slides into bed, though, his phone starts buzzing. It’s Sid.

Geno doesn’t bother holding back his instinctual smile when he answers. “Hello?”

“Hey, G. I just wanted to, uh, ask how you were feeling.”

Geno’s glad Sid can’t see the way he smiles wider at his concern. “Feel fine, Sid. Hung out with Tanger and Olli today, I’m go to bed early.”

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” Sid sounds genuinely concerned, like he doesn’t call people late at night _all the time_ to talk about hockey.

“No, is fine, I’m not asleep yet.”

“Good,” Sid replies. He’s silent for a few moments, and Geno can hear the faint sound of his television echoing through the receiver. It sounds like hockey highlights. Water’s wet, the sun is bright, and Sid watches hockey highlights in his spare time. Geno would be embarrassed at how endearing he finds Sid’s predictability, but he’s been dealing with it for too long to truly care.

“Okay, well, I’m gonna go,” Sid says. “Have a good night, G.”

“You too, Sid.”

***

Sid comes over the morning before the team leaves for Boston to nag Geno about his fridge contents. “Are you sure you don’t need me to cook anything else?”

Geno gives him an incredulous look. “Plane leaves in few hours. What you manage to cook before have to leave?”

“I mean, I don’t know.” Sid visibly deflates a little. “I’m just worried.”

Geno feels a familiar pang in his chest. Sid being worried for his health shouldn’t make him feel so much. But as much as Geno loves Sid’s company, it’s really for the best that he’s catching a break while the team goes off to play the Bruins. Because Geno had heard things from people affected with vampirism about different people’s blood smelling noticeably different, to the point where those who had the disease for a long time could easily differentiate their friends and family by scent alone, but Geno hadn’t thought he would notice, considering he’s only been affected for about a week.

But, God save him, Sid smells so fucking good. And Geno has self-control, he really does, but he’s so afraid that one day he’s going to snap. He finds himself wishing more and more often that Sid would wear his godawful-smelling colognes, because at least then he wouldn’t be so tempting.

“Will be fine, Sid,” Geno says. “You go, score lots against Bruins.”

“I’ll try, Geno.” He tilts his head, looking at Geno consideringly. “You really need to get better soon. Not being able to see yourself in the mirror’s really taken a toll on you.”

Geno squawks, raising his hand to his face automatically. “What you mean?”

Sid shakes his head, grinning. “That hair, G.” He turns around, chirping a cheery goodbye as he heads through Geno’s front door. Geno raises a hand to fuss with his hair, then gives up once he realizes it won’t do him any good. Whatever. At least he doesn’t use half a bottle of hair gel every day.

Either way, there are more pressing issues at hand. Such as the fact that Geno’s started chubbing up every time that Sid tilts his head, inadvertently showing off the pale stretch of his neck. It’s like a neck kink is a side effect of vampirism that no one bothered to warn Geno about – though, considering the typical vampire obsession with biting necks showed in the media, he maybe should’ve expected that.

He isn’t expecting any more company, so he doesn’t even bother going to his bedroom to jerk off; he does it on the couch, pushing his jeans and boxers down just far enough to get a too-dry hand on his cock and _god,_ it feels way too good for a shitty dry masturbation session. He licks at his own sharpened canines as he gets close, imagining what it’d be like to bite Sid, to sink his new fangs in and _taste—_

Guilt courses through him as he wipes his stomach off with a tissue. Thinking about Sid like that isn’t appropriate at all.

The knowledge that he’ll probably end up doing it again just makes him feel like shit.

***

Geno starts chopping garlic for a salad on autopilot before he remembers. It’s no use; a rash starts developing on his hands before he can properly wash them. He curses to himself as he digs around in his bathroom cabinets, frantically trying to remember where he put his anti-allergen cream. Eventually he gives up and just shoves his itching and burning hands under cold water to temporarily soothe them. As if on cue, his phone goes off in his pocket as soon as he’s finished drying his hands off.

He picks it up without looking at the caller ID. “Yes?”

“Hi, Geno, it’s Dr. Vyas. Is this a good time?”

Talking will hopefully be a decent distraction from the rash, so sure. “Yes. Everything okay?”

“You tell me. How are you handling your symptoms?”

“Symptoms fine,” Geno responds. He doesn’t think it’s important to mention the garlic thing – he already knew that was something that could happen.

“Good, good,” Dr. Vyas replies. He clears his throat. “Listen, Geno, this is going to sound – strange, but all of my contacts who have dealt with mild cases of vampirism have recommended a certain method of helping to speed up your recovery.”

Geno stands a little straighter. He’s definitely listening now. “Will do. What is it?”

“Well.” Dr. Vyas hesitates. “It’s often beneficial for patients if they drink blood before the second round of medication.”

Geno freezes. “What?”

“I know it sounds disturbing, and I understand if you have your doubts. I won’t force you to do anything. But it is a proven method to help boost your body’s ability to fight against the disease itself, which yes, sounds odd considering vampirism is the cause of, well, bloodlust, in the first place.”

“I, um, think about.” Geno’s still very caught off guard. “Does it matter where I get blood?”

Dr. Vyas hums. “Not really, no. There are organizations that sell blood packets for things like this, which would be the easiest option.” He pauses. “Of course, you could also just – find a person, if you wanted.”

Geno’s mouth goes dry. He can’t help the way that his mind immediately goes to Sid, which he obviously doesn’t mention. “I – okay.”

“Just let me know what you plan to do before we start the second round of treatment. Have a good night, Geno.”

Geno hums a polite goodbye and hangs up. He braces his hands against the counter, staring at the place where his reflection would be in the mirror if he wasn’t a _vampire_ right now. Usually, if Geno needs to relax in order to get to sleep, he just jerks off, but he doesn’t want to do that tonight because he doesn’t want his mind to wander. Instead, he takes a sleeping pill and resigns himself to the prospect of feeling like shit in the morning.

He still dreams about Sid that night. It’s fucking awful.

***

Geno only has the number of one person who’s ever dealt with having the vampirism virus, and the next day he sucks in a breath and prepares himself for an awkward conversation.

Alex answers on the second ring. “Zhenya,” he greets cheerfully, “How it going? You ask for trade to Capitals yet?”

“Fuck you, Sasha,” Geno responds in Russian. “I have something serious to talk to you about.”

“Serious?” Geno can practically hear Alex waggling his eyebrows, impossible as it may be. “I’m listening.”

Geno collects himself. “Okay. You remember when you got the vampirism virus a few years ago?”

Alex goes quiet for a few seconds – a very rare occurrence – before he bursts into laughter. “Oh, Zhenya,” he cackles, “You a vampire now?”

“I never said that,” Geno grumbles. “I just – fuck, okay, yes. Don’t say anything about it. I just need to know if you decided to drink anyone’s blood during your treatment.”

Alex’s still laughing a little, finally responding after he’s calmed down. “Yeah, I did.”

“Did it work?”

Alex hums. “I think so. My estimated time until it was gone was four weeks, and then the blood cut my remaining time from two weeks to one.”

“Good to know,” Geno responds. It isn’t, not really, but still. “Where did you get the blood?”

Alex hesitates before answering. “I won’t tell you. But I’ll say it was from a person, not a packet.”

Geno doesn’t push for the name. He nods, even though he knows Alex can’t see him. “Okay. That’s all I wanted to ask.”

“Goodbye, Zhenya. And good luck.” Alex hangs up before Geno can say anything, but Geno isn’t complaining. He wonders briefly about who Alex managed to convince, but then he dismisses the thought. He really doesn’t want to know anything about Alex’s intimate relations with other people; hearing about the sex routines was bad enough.

In any case, Geno knows drinking someone’s blood is probably the most useful route. He knows he should go with one of the blood packet services that Dr. Vyas mentioned, but.

But.

What would it be like?

It’s a terrible idea. It’s a shitty thought. But Geno can’t deny that he’s dying to know what drinking someone’s blood from their neck would be like. It’s got to be like the difference between a fresh cooked meal and a premade, pre-packaged one; blood straight from someone’s body instead of blood that’s been sealed away in plastic. He already knows he likes to bite a little in bed, so this is really just the logical progression of that.

He snorts at himself. Logical, sure. There’s really nothing logical about it. It’s quite possibly the least logical train of thought he’s ever found himself on, save for his frequent daydreams about marrying Sid or fantasies about being able to win a fight against Zdeno Chara. He can’t help but go with it right now, too annoyed and tired of the virus to try and fight where his mind decides to wander.

It’s probably a good thing he can’t see what he looks like, because he’s sure he looks terrible.

***

Sid comes over to see Geno the evening after the team gets back to Pittsburgh. He’s hardly through the doorway before he starts asking how Geno’s been feeling.

“Good,” Geno says, a little distracted by the smell. It’s like that experiment where the toad gets dropped into a pot of boiling water versus the toad who sits in water as it’s gradually heated to its boiling point.

Sid clearly senses that Geno’s kind of off, and looks up at him as he’s toeing off his shoes. “You sure? You seem a little,” he wiggles his hand, “Weird, I don’t know.”

Geno just nods. He needs to get some alcohol in him before he’s comfortable enough to talk to Sid about everything.

A couple hours later, they’re relaxed on the couch watching Die Hard – Christmas is in, like, a month, sue him – and Geno’s a few beers deep. Sid’s nursing his own beer.

It’s probably how casual it all feels that drives Geno to blurt out, “Dr. Vyas wants me to drink blood.”

Sid coughs, nearly spitting out his mouthful of beer. Geno gives him a few moments to recover. When he’s collected himself, Sid puts his beer on the coffee table and turns to Geno. “Why?”

Geno looks down, unable to look Sid in the eyes right now _._ “It helps speed up treatment.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Sid says. “Where are you supposed to get the blood from?”

“Dr. Vyas says there’s services for blood packets.” Geno takes a sip of beer. “Or he says drink from someone works, but. Probably not best idea.”

It’s both surprising and unsurprising when Sid flushes at that, which Geno smells rather than sees. “Does it, like, matter who you, uh, drink from? Or can it be anyone?”

“Can be anyone. Like me, remember?”

“Right, right.” Sid laughs nervously. “I almost forgot.” Geno finally looks back up at him. Sid’s staring at his beer bottle like it’ll give him the secrets to threepeating. “Do you know what you’re gonna do?”

Geno doesn’t dare mention how much he wishes he could drink Sid’s blood like a fucking Capri Sun. “Probably blood packet service.”

Sid clears his throat. Clears it again. Clears it a third time. “Are you sure?”

Geno furrows his eyebrows. “Is easier than pickup. Less trouble.”

“Well, I mean, yeah, but that isn’t what I, um, meant.” Sid’s turning even redder, which Geno didn’t think was possible. “It’s just, if it were more convenient, so you didn’t have to, like, wait for the blood thing to arrive, I could, um.” Sid coughs. “Y’know.”

Geno doesn’t dare get his hopes up about what Sid’s trying to propose. “What you mean?”

“Jesus Christ, Geno, I’m offering to let you. Um. With me.”

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Geno thinks he does a very good job not letting his internal freakout show when he clarifies, “You mean suck your blood?”

Sid grits his teeth. “Do you have to say it like that?”

Geno scowls. “What else I’m supposed to say? Like saying oh, I’m just drink your blood, is fine, nothing go wrong—“

Sid interrupts him. “What could possibly go wrong? I’m trying to do you a favor, Geno.”

Geno swallows and forces himself to keep eye contact. “You know how it feels when vampire drink from you, Sid? Isn’t just oh, teeth go in, go out. Is, like – arousal thing.” He takes a deep breath. “If I’m drink from you, you going to feel like, uh.” He cuts himself off before he goes any further.

“I mean, I’ve heard that before.” To Geno’s horror, Sid moves out of the armchair and plants himself next to Geno on the couch, keeping Geno from moving away with a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t care, Geno. If you don’t want to do it, it’s fine, I’ll drop it. But I’m pretty sure you want to. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring at my neck.”

That gives Geno a minor heart attack, the fact that Sid’s apparently noticed how fucking weird he’s been the whole time. Geno tries to deflect. “I thought you didn’t like vampire stuff? You wear crucifix first day I’m have virus.”

Sid scoffs. “I got over it.” He looks at Geno pleadingly. “Let me help you. I want to help you, Geno, please.”

It takes every single ounce of self-control that Geno has, but he leans away. “I need to think about, Sid.”

Sid deflates, but he quickly shakes it off. “Yeah, sure, of course.”

“Shouldn’t do tonight, anyways, you have game tomorrow night and I’m not know how blood is, uh, affect—“

“For sure,” Sid cuts him off. He rises to his feet, visibly unsteady. “I’ll. Uh. Go, so you have time to collect your thoughts and – yeah.” He scrambles to the front door before Geno can try to formulate another response. “Bye.”

Geno drops his head into his hands. Why does he have to be the responsible one?

***

The impending dread of having to talk to Sid about the blood-sucking thing again is temporarily sidelined when Geno watches the game against Tampa. He grins like a lunatic when Sid gets his first goal, and cheers in the middle of his living room when Sid gets a second.

He watches Sid celly, happy and excited, and makes up his mind.

***

Sid comes over that night unannounced.

Geno lets Sid get his shoes off and coat hung up before he speaks. “Yes.”

Sid’s head snaps up, searching Geno’s face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Geno smiles reassuringly. “If you sure, then I’m sure.”

Sid gets that look on his face, the one that screams excitement and determination and the feeling of getting away with something all at once. It’s one of Geno’s favorite looks, and Geno wonders how he could’ve thought he could say no to this.

“How should we – uh, sit, or whatever?”

Geno thinks of multiple positions that he definitely shouldn’t mention before shaking himself out of it. “Maybe—couch? We both sit, you turn, easy to get neck.”

Sid nods, pushing by Geno. He doesn’t press himself against the wall to avoid contact this time. He brushes right against Geno when he passes, and shoots him a look that Geno can’t even begin to decipher.

Geno positions Sid so that they’re both sitting cross-legged on the couch, Geno next to the armrest and Sid right in front of him. It won’t be the most comfortable position for very long, but Geno wants to get this over with before he does something he’ll regret even more than he’ll probably regret what they’re already planning to do.

Geno places his hands on Sid’s shoulders, keeping them there even when Sid jumps a little bit. He rubs them a little, trying to settle Sid down. “You sure you okay? Not have to do this. Won’t be mad.”

He can hear Sid swallow. “Yeah, I’m sure. Whenever you’re ready, you can, uh, bite, or whatever.”

Geno snorts. “Of course bite. What, you think I’m have a curly straw for this?”

Sid giggles, and just like that, some more of the tension in his shoulders goes away. “Fuck you.”

“Okay.” Geno leans in, close enough that he can feel some of the warmth coming off of Sid’s skin. “Tell me if you want to stop. Just going to try and do for ten seconds. Push away if it feels like too much, or I’m go longer, or—“

“Yes, yes, I get it. Just do it, Geno.”

Geno nods even though Sid can’t see it. He opens his mouth far enough that he’ll be able to latch on to the meat at the junction of Sid’s neck and shoulder, then lowers his head to sink his canines in.

Sid gasps but doesn’t make a move to pull away. If anything, he leans back into Geno’s grip, slumping his head even further to the side. Geno tries and fails to suppress a moan deep in his throat, because Sid tastes even better than he smells. He can barely keep his mind on how long he’s been at this. He wishes he’d set a timer.

Sid’s breathing heavy nine seconds in, and Geno forces himself off at ten seconds. He keeps his grip on Sid’s shoulders firm, since it feels like Sid’s going to pass out any minute now.

“Wow,” Sid mumbles, a full minute later. “I get what you meant about it feeling like that.”

“Sorry,” Geno says, “don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, it’s just – happen.”

“That wasn’t a complaint, G.” Sid turns his body so that he can look Geno in the eye. His pupils are dilated so much that Geno can hardly see the hazel ring around them. His cheeks are rosy. His mouth is hanging open and Sid’s staring at where Geno’s gone similarly slackjawed and. Well. There’s only so much self-control someone can have.

Sid leans into Geno just as eagerly, clashing their mouths together so hard and so awkwardly it’s painful. Geno brings his hand up to angle Sid’s jaw better, but goes in just as fast and aggressive, catching Sid’s plump lower lip with his teeth and dragging another desperate gasp out of him. Sid turns his entire body to scramble into Geno’s lap, and Geno stretches his legs out so that Sid’s able to straddle him.

It’s like Sid can’t calm down, peppering biting kisses down Geno’s jawline and neck with the same sort of desperation Geno’s seen when they’re down one goal during the playoffs. And – as nice as that is, it does make Geno remember that this isn’t normal Sid right now. This is vampire-bite-venom affected Sid, and Geno’s already basically taking advantage, even if Sid was the one who started all of this.

Geno pulls away, and Sid whines, trying to chase him. He only stops when Geno shoves at his chest and Sid falls back, planting himself on Geno’s thighs.

“Fuck,” Sid breathes, “fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—“

“Is my fault, Sid. Shouldn’t have accepted, I’m take advantage—“

“ _No,_ ” Sid insists, “you didn’t take advantage of anything. I’m the one that knew how we’d react to this and still asked for it. I took advantage of you.”

Geno frowns, puzzled. “What you mean, knew how _we’d_ react?”

Sid glances down like he’s too ashamed to look Geno in the eye. “I’ve known people who go through this. Every time they get bitten, they end up having sex, and I guess I—“ He clamps his mouth shut. “Nevermind.”

“No. You tell me what you mean.”

Sid squeezes his eyes shut. “I wanted that, okay? I wanted to have sex with you. And I shouldn’t want that, and I shouldn’t have tried to use this as an excuse to get it, and you probably hate me.”

Geno stares long enough that Sid starts to fidget, squirming like he’s going to move off of his legs. Geno holds him in place by gripping both of Sid’s thighs, trying to ignore how much he likes the stretch of his hands due to how fucking thick they are. “You want this before I’m vampire?”

Sid’s eyes water a little as he nods again, like he can’t even bring himself to say it. “I’m sorry,” he rasps out again. “I’m so sorry, I’ll go.”

Geno starts to grin. “Sid.”

Sid scowls down at his own lap. “What?”

“ _Sid,_ ” Geno says, beaming, “Sid. Look at me.”

He raises his head reluctantly, but then his face clears when he sees how Geno’s smiling. “G?”

“Sid,” Geno breathes out one more time, before leaning up and in to kiss Sid again. Sid lets out a muffled gasp but quickly reciprocates. They have to break apart again way too quickly, but this time it’s because they’re both smiling way too much to actually kiss. Sid starts giggling, burying his face into Geno’s neck, and Geno rubs the skin on Sid’s back where his shirt has ridden up, desperate for every scrap of contact he can get now that he knows Sid really, genuinely wants it.

It also has the unintended side effect of riling Sid up even more, and Sid drags his hands up and in from where they’re planted at the top of Geno’s thighs to brush over his crotch. Geno hums, pleased, when Sid starts dragging the waistband of Geno’s sweats and boxers down. It’s tortuously slow, and Geno starts grasping at Sid’s belt to give him some incentive to speed up.

Sid raises his head just enough to murmur into Geno’s ear. “Normally, I’d want to get my mouth on you, or your dick in me, but I can’t wait right now.”

Geno turns his head enough to kiss Sid’s forehead, just a quick peck before he shoves his hand into Sid’s pants. “We have time for everything else later.”

“ _Fuck,_ yes,” Sid moans, hips jerking up when Geno wraps his hand around his cock. He scrabbles at Geno like he’ll die if he doesn’t return the favor.

It’s a weird angle for both of them, and it’s dry save for the precome starting to ease the way, but it doesn’t even fucking matter because Sid’s tipping over the edge barely a minute later, gasping into Geno’s shoulder where he keeps biting down like he needs something to stop all of the little sounds he’s making. Geno follows him over soon after, still groping Sid where he’s probably oversensitive, judging by how he’s still twitching in Geno’s lap.

Sid slumps into Geno’s arms as they both come down from orgasm. Geno lets him lie there for a few minutes, then starts to squirm a little. He loves every part of this, don’t get him wrong, but his legs are falling asleep and no one likes having drying come on and in their clothes.

“Sid, need to get up. Need shower.”

Sid groans into Geno’s shoulder, but manages to make himself sit up. “Yeah, that sounds good.” He looks uncertain, which is absolutely ridiculous considering what they just did. “Is it okay if I shower here, too?”

“Of course you’re shower here.” He leans in for a quick kiss. “I think you shower with me. Save water.”

Sid grins as he scrambles off of Geno’s lap. “Sounds great.” He giggles when Geno stands up too and tugs him upstairs to the master bathroom with a hand firmly gripping Sid’s.

***

Geno briefly panics the next morning when he feels a heavy weight on his chest, but that panic quickly turns into near-ecstatic happiness when he remembers it’s Sid. He wouldn’t have pegged Sid as a cuddler, but Geno’s more than happy to have been wrong about that.

***

They perform their normal pregame handshake the night Geno returns to the lineup to play against Buffalo, but this time, when Sid leans in to bump their helmets together, he stays close for a beat longer than usual.

“You know,” he says, “I’m glad you’re back, but I think I’m gonna miss the fangs.”

Geno grins at him and swats extra hard at his ass to complete the routine. “Don’t worry,” he calls, “I still bite you lots!”

Sid’s resounding laugh is the best thing he’s ever heard.

**Author's Note:**

> i just realized that the event of someone contracting an illness despite being vaccinated could be read as me being anti-vaccine. let me be totally clear: vaccines are absolutely vital to public health and you're a shithead if you don't ensure that both you and your loved ones are vaccinated.
> 
> I'm talking about the importance of vaccination in the notes of my hockey rpf fanfic. how did i end up like this?


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